


Leaving, and then

by Blanquette



Series: Of Petty Cats, Anxious Dogs and Crafty Foxes [2]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cats, Getting Back Together, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 07:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13631535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blanquette/pseuds/Blanquette
Summary: Changkyun leaves behind a letter and heartache and goes to the other side of the world. He comes back, though, and there's a cat, and Minhyuk the wise, and surely, Kihyun.Or: The sequel absolutely no one asked forBasically "Of Petty Cats, Anxious Dogs and Crafty Foxes" but from Changkyun's POV (I take full responsibility for the laziness of the concept lmao)





	Leaving, and then

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Leaving, and then](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14681412) by [Mathiiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mathiiel/pseuds/Mathiiel)



> I was listening to "Reserved seat" by Hyukoh and it just fit with Changkyun's leaving so I wrote the first few paragraphs and then I though, might as well just turn this into yet another one of my procrastination one shots.

**1.**

It’s raining when Changkyun leaves. It’s oddly fitting, he thinks. As dry as his cheeks are the sky pours his sadness over the city. He leaves a letter behind, words that needed to get out but did not, black ink on white paper putting an end to years of a shared life. A letter and a piece of his heart, too, on the wobbly table of their small kitchen. There’s still an echo of the screams that filled it the day before, tucked in dusty corners, trapped under upturned glasses in dark cupboards.

He knows he shouldn’t look, but he does anyway. Pushes open the door of their bedroom only slightly, a small space that allows him to take a last glance towards the sleeping form sprawled on their bed. Black hair spilling ink against white sheets, a narrow chest raising and falling softly, a hand clutching at the empty space next to him. Changkyun almost falters, then. Almost lets his bag fall to the floor, almost crawls back into the familiar warmth, fitting himself against a body he can trace by heart.

He doesn’t.

He says a silent goodbye instead, an apology, too, maybe. It would have been different had he been stronger, had he known how to express the anguish constricting his heart, and the love, too, the love that wasn’t strong enough to carry them anymore. He tried, but it wasn’t enough, never enough. And he’s exhausted now, all frayed edges and withered heart. So Changkyun chooses sorrow over a love that hurt too much, and closes the door on what could have been.

He feels strangely empty when he slides himself into the cab waiting at the foot of their building. He doesn’t look back, not once, pushing everything down until he can’t feel anything besides cold rain drops seeping in his collar. The ride to the airport is like walking deeper into a dream, the rain against the window blurring lights and shapes into shadows that don’t mean anything anymore. Changkyun stares until his vision blurs. There’s a soft song playing on the radio and he closes his eyes for a while, listening, and wondering, too, why does it sound so sad.

He tries not to think about the sleeping body he left behind in the familiar apartment. About what his hair will look like, when he wakes up, rubbing at eyes still full of sleep. What expression he will make, when he notices the empty space next to him, sheets already gone cold. Will he understand right away, or only when he steps into the kitchen, finding the letter? Will it be anger, sadness, hurt or regret he will feel, when he reads it? Will his fingers grip at the paper, crumbling it, ripping it in half, maybe, after he’s done reading? Sending shreds of paper flying in the still air of the kitchen, watching them fall to the floor like autumn leaves, hurt and grief spelt on their veins.

The ride to the airport is too long and too short. Changkyun has time for regret and loss to fill him, but not enough to make a decision about turning back. Each step that he takes towards his plane, there is a piece of him that shatters to the ground; he’s only skin and bones when he finds his seat on the aircraft. It still feels like a dream when the plane takes off, or maybe he had been in a dream all along, and this is waking-up. He looks at himself in the window and the man looking back feels foreign, skintight and frayed, lips drawn in a taught line. He left too much behind to know who he really is, anymore. He wonders if the man that will step out of the plane when it lands will be the same one that boarded it before it took off. He hopes he won’t.

 

**2.**

It’s not raining in Boston. It’s sunny, clear skies and puffs of white clouds, looking almost too cartoonish. It is a dream, then, Changkyun thinks. But he’s not waking up, and it’s another taxi that takes him to his hotel, with a chatty driver asking too many questions for his rusty English to keep up with. But he makes it through. He makes it through the next week, too. And the one after that. He makes it through his new job, through apartment hunting, through making new friends, through meeting old ones. After a while he discovers that it’s getting easier. That being alone for the first time in many years isn’t so unpleasant, after all. He finally gets to know the man that was staring at him from his plane window, and he isn’t entirely displeased with what he finds.

But there is a distinct want in everything he does. A hole in his side that needs filling, and he knows the exact shape of what is missing. Dark hair spilling on white sheets. A narrow chest, raising and falling softly, a hand that should have been clutching at him instead of emptiness. At the time it didn’t seem like there was enough love left between them to mend the deep cuts inflicted by searing words and indifferent stares, by the empty, mechanic gestures of caring they thought they owed each other. Now, though, now is different. Something withered is blooming again in his chest.

He starts taking pictures. Writing things down. Things he wants to show and tell the ghost that follows him everywhere. He keeps movie-ticket stubs and goes to art exhibitions he doesn’t even like, but that he thinks the ghost will. He thinks back, too. A lot. On what went wrong, what did they miss, what he should have done. He grows. Understands. Enjoys his life, enjoys himself by himself, and wonders if he ever did, before. They were just waiting on the other to make everything perfect, until disappointment and frustration ate away at their relationship, and then, nothing was left.

He gets offered a contract extension. He doesn’t take it.

 

**3.**

The man staring at him from the plane window is vastly different from the one he saw all those months ago. He seems fuller, somehow, brighter, and maybe this one will be able to achieve what the other could not.

He cannot go home. So he goes to the next best thing, a sofa in a tiny apartment downtown. Minhyuk whacks him over the head when he opens the door.

“You little shit. I can’t believe you didn’t talk to me before leaving. What was I supposed to do once you were already in Boston? Call Interpol?”

There’s sheepish smiles and apologies, but it’s easy, Minhyuk never the one to hold any grudges. Changkyun exhausts every topic he can think of before asking the one question that burns on his lips ever since he stepped through the threshold.

“How is Kihyun?”

Minhyuk laughs, puts down the water glass halfway to his mouth.

“I was wondering when that would come up. What do you think? You disappeared on him.”

Changkyun says nothing, looking at Minhyuk as if the man had a life or death sentence hanging over his head.

“You – well, his place is a mess. He eats a lot of take-out.”

“So he turned into you?”

Minhyuk hums under his breath, a slow smile spreading on his lips.

“You could say that. Without my trademark joie-de-vivre, though. His head’s as messy as his house. Changkyun. I think you broke him. Also, he hates you now.”

There’s an unpleasant feeling twisting in his guts, even if he wasn’t expecting anything else.

“I needed to get out, Minhyuk.”

“I know you did. You guys were terrible for each other. But there’s other ways of doing it, don’t you think? I mean, I always knew you had a dramatic flair but fucking off to the other end of the world without a warning, that’s really something else.”

Minhyuk tone is light, almost playful, but the words cut deep. At the time, it had felt like the only way out. Changkyun isn’t so sure, now.

“I need to see him.”

“No you don’t. Not yet. You need to find an apartment and start your life again. Then maybe you can think of seeing him. I don’t know why you came back, but he’s still a mess, and he needs to sort himself out before you come barging back in.”

Changkyun nods. Changkyun understands. Changkyun starts his new life by getting a cat.

 

**4.**

It’s a grey thing with judgmental eyes who doesn’t seem to like him very much. He names him Captain Fracasse. Minhyuk isn’t thrilled about it, especially when he starts scratching at his sofa.

“My place doesn’t even allow pets. Changkyun, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“Yeah, clearly.”

They’re standing in the living room, both staring at the cat, who makes himself comfortable on the couch before turning his yellow eyes on them and mewling at their scrutiny. He sounds annoyed. Fussy and annoyed.

“Did you pick this one cause he’s basically a tiny, furry version of Kihyun?”

“No.”

Maybe. Changkyun tries not to overanalyze his recent actions.

“We can’t keep him.”

“I can’t just bring him back to the rescue.”

“That’s why you need to think things through, Changkyun.”

Changkyun sneers at him but Minhyuk doesn’t pay attention anymore. There’s a faraway, thoughtful look on his face that Changkyun learned long ago to associate with dread.

“I know. I’m gonna give him to a friend until you get your own place.”

Changkyun is suspicious. Minhyuk still isn’t looking at him.

“Which friend?”

“You don’t know him. Just find yourself a place.”

Changkyun nods. Changkyun finds himself a place that allows cats. Changkyun asks for the friend’s address and almost has a heart attack.

 

**5.**

The door slams in his face. It doesn’t hurt as much as the look of utter panic in Kihyun’s eyes. He knocks again, softly, cursing Minhyuk a thousand times over in his head. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“Hyung, come on. Open the door. Please?”

There’s silence on the other side, a heavy kind of silence that tells him Kihyun is still there, somehow, still listening.

“I just came for the cat, Hyung. Captain Fracasse? Minhyuk told me you have him. He’s mine.”

More silence. Changkyun swallows uneasily, glances towards the staircase, torn between leaving and staying. But it’s his cat, after all. He might be a strange, slightly hostile placeholder, but he’s his nonetheless.

“If you don’t want to see me, just… Just put his stuff outside or something, okay?”

This is stupid, Changkyun thinks. He sees himself from the sidelines, a tired man hunched over a closed door that won’t talk back, arguing about a cat that probably doesn’t even remember him. There’s anger thrown somewhere in there, too, and he’s not even sure why. Kihyun is stubborn, always has been, and maybe Changkyun had hoped the other had changed, too, just like he had during those months apart. But Kihyun won’t open the door, and Changkyun is tired, so tired of waiting, of hoping, and maybe they were a mistake, always had been, but still, if only Kihyun would –

“There’s no way you’re getting that cat back.”

It’s the first time he hears Kihyun’s voice in months, and he had thought he would feel something other than irritation, when it happened. He doesn’t, though. He’s angry, and tired, and frustrated, and he wants to smash that stupid door to splinters.

“What?”

“I’m not giving you the cat back!”

Kihyun sounds like a petulant child and Changkyun is that close to kick the door in. He reigns himself in instead, swallows, tries to level his voice.

“Hyung, come on. Don’t be childish.”

There’s a laugh on the other side. It sounds everything but joyous, though, and something constricts in Changkyun’s chest. That tiny, sad laugh. He did this.

“Captain doesn’t remember you now, Changkyun-ah. You’ve been gone. He doesn’t need you.”

Kihyun’s voice sounds small and tired, and just like that, Changkyun’s anger melts away, leaving only hollowness in its wake. He can picture exactly how Kihyun looks right now, eyes downcast, black bangs flopping into his eyes, mouth pinched in annoyance because he always clung to anger rather than grief. The image hurts, the voice hurts, and Changkyun desperately want that door to open. His fingers draw abstract patterns on the peeling paint and he wishes they could thread in Kihyun’s hair instead, untangling months of rancor and anger and regret and want.

Instead he draws a breath, and speaks again, voice heavy on words full of meaning.

“Are we still talking about the cat?”

“Fuck off, Changkyun.”

Changkyun winces, because there’s no real heat behind the words, just a deep weariness, and it weaves a tight rope around Changkyun’s heart.

“No. Open the door.”

There’s a beat of silence, and there’s a flicker of hope the door will finally open. It doesn’t.

“Come back in an hour. I’ll put everything outside.”

Kihyun sounds defeated, and it’s so rare, Changkyun realizes he might have done more damage than he thought when he left.

 

**6.**

“Of course you did.”

Minhyuk is sprawling on his sofa, balancing a canned beer precariously on his belly, while angrily jamming away at his phone. Changkyun’s eyes don’t leave the wobbly can, waiting on it to inevitably spill over.

“I know you think he didn’t care, but he did. In his shitty, petty way. Kihyun’s a bit…”

Minhyuk lets go of his phone for a second to wave his hands into the air.

“…. you know, when it comes to feelings.”

“I know?”

Minhyuk puts down his phone for good, sending Changkyun a tired look that makes him retreat a bit more into himself, folded as he is on Minhyuk’s ratty armchair.

“He’s a control freak. He doesn’t like when things just… Get away from him. You got away from him a lot. He can’t control you and whatever it is he’s feeling for you. So he just turns into this frustrated, irritated ass cause he can’t fit you into those little neat boxes he has for everything. And then he takes it out on you.”

Changkyun just stares silently at Minhyuk, and the latter rolls his eyes, sitting up while taking a sip of his beer before putting it down on the table. He crosses his legs, and sighs like a long-suffering parent.

“Look. I’m amazed it even worked out for that long. You guys are… You’re an insecure mess and he’s an emotionally constipated jerk. And you were both so far up your own asses you were incapable of figuring out what was wrong and actually try to work it out. You just fought all the damn time. Do you have any idea of how tiring it was to watch?”

“Very?”

“That’s a rhetorical question, Changkyun.”

“I’m not an insecure mess.”

Minhyuk looks at him, really looks at him, until Changkyun shifts uneasily on the armchair, dropping his gaze. He grabs the can on the table and brings it to his lips, talking before taking a sip.

“Maybe not so much anymore.”

Changkyun raises his head, looking at Minhyuk and the strange smile playing on his lips from behind the can.

“Go. Talk to him. Bring him his damn cat back. You sat in pee for fuck’s sake.”

Changkyun laughs. There’s something heavy leaving his chest with the sound, dissipating in Minhyuk’s banter and calm reassurance. He lets himself hope, if only a little.

 

**7.**

This time the door doesn’t slam in his face, and there’s Kihyun. Kihyun, with messy black hair, sharp eyes and sharper cheekbones, just silently staring at him. Changkyun feels an almost physical pull towards him and his hands itch to grab, touch, feel the familiar skin with burning fingers. But he can see the scowl slowly forming on Kihyun’s features so he just shifts awkwardly, willing his voice to push words out of his dry throat.

“You look good.”

“I know. What do you want?”

Changkyun winces, as much at his stupid opening than at Kihyun’s cutting words. He scratches the back of his head and decides he cannot look at the other anymore, so he fixes his gaze on a point slightly above his left ear instead. It’s better, slightly. He can pretend none of this is really happening.

“You were right. Captain Fracasse doesn’t remember me. He’s been impossible ever since we moved in. I think he misses you.”

There it is, Kihyun’s smug smile Changkyun knows so well. His eyes flicker to his mouth, and then back to the void again. There’s too many memories on those lips. As much heated kisses as glacial words.

“And?”

“Do you want him back? If you do, I’m okay with it.”

Kihyun seems to consider it, and Changkyun almost wants to add that he’s not only talking about the cat. He doesn’t. He’s not ready. Kihyun finally extends his hand, and it shouldn’t hurt that much to look at him.

“Give it.”

There’s the tiniest brush of their fingers when the carrier changes hands, and Changkyun wonders if Kihyun feels it too, that burning feeling that just screams _more more more_ in his ears. But Kihyun doesn’t look at him, sits down on the floor instead, freeing the cat, who looks hesitant at first, before settling down and purring in the triangle of Kihyun’s crossed legs. There’s a warm expression blooming on Kihyun’s face, his eyes softening, and Changkyun remembers a time where he would look at him with those same eyes, open and vulnerable.

“He really likes you, doesn’t he. He was peeing everywhere the first few days. I kept stepping or sitting in it. It was great.”

Kihyun laughs, and suddenly it feels light between them, almost like it used to, a long time ago. There’s a fragile peace settling in between Fracasse’s purrs, Kihyun’s cooing and Changkyun’s guarded gaze. He feels something stir in his belly, a sad longing for what could have been, and it stirs him to crouch on the floor at Kihyun’s level. Changkyun feels like he can ask, that maybe this is the truce he needs to finally fit the pieces back together.

“Do you… Do you still hate me?”

Kihyun stills for a second, before he resumes petting the cat’s grey fur. He doesn’t look at Changkyun when he speaks, and his voice is soft and a little subdued. Changkyun strains to hear.

“I was hurt and angry. I didn’t hate you.”

“You avoided my calls. I only got news through Minhyuk.”

Kihyun’s fingers draw strange patterns on the cat’s fur and the animal blinks up at him, until he gives him a scratch behind the ears. There’s a soft light falling on him, washing out the sharp angles of his being, and Changkyun fells like he’s back in a dream.

“I needed time to understand. To let you go. To let my feelings die.”

There’s a sharp pang in his chest at those words, an overwhelming sadness that pours out from a dark spot near his heart. His own feelings are so alive it hurts, ready to burst out of him and smother this sad version of Kihyun into all that was buried deep during their time together.

“Did they?”

Changkyun puts too much behind those simple words, and Kihyun must feel it, as his gaze sharpens and the fight seeps back into him.

“Why does it matter now? You were bored, you left, I remained. That’s it.”

“Kihyun…”

He can’t hold it back anymore, this need to touch, because he was never great with his words when it came to Kihyun, and they always found other ways. Not good enough, he knows now, but old habits die hard. So he grabs Kihyun’s hand, and he feels warm and soft, and he missed him, he missed him so much.

“Kihyun, look at me.”

Kihyun doesn’t. Changkyun forges ahead anyway.

“It wasn’t you I was bored of. It was everything else. Nothing felt right. I thought I needed change, and…”

“And you booked plane tickets for the other side of the world without telling me, I know, I was there when you disappeared. I hope you found what you were looking for. Stop asking Minhyuk after me, I’m good. I don’t want to be your friend or whatever you think this could be. Leave me alone.”

The truce between them definitely shatters when Kihyun stands up, scooting up Fracasse in his arms. Changkyun stays crouched on the floor for a while after, split between leaving or staying. But he can’t, he really can’t leave things like this. That’s what brought them to that point, after all. So he gets up, and pads slowly after Kihyun.

He finds him in the kitchen, back turned, face pressed against his cat, and this is such a familiar sight it hurts, Kihyun trying to push down tears and anger and feelings he doesn’t have control over. Changkyun knows now that this is what he looked like, when he woke up that morning, bare feet slowly padding on the cold tiles to find Changkyun gone and a lonely letter waiting for him on the kitchen table.

Changkyun has the urge to go to him, hold him, mold him against his chest like he should have done so long ago, because they fit, he knows they do, if only they could just figure out which way is up. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t, and instead he hears himself speak hesitantly to Kihyun’s turned back, and he see him tense, but he doesn’t stop.

“I didn’t find what I was looking for. I regretted ever leaving as soon as I got off the plane. But it was too late to come back, wasn’t it? And I thought, I should make the best of it. And I did, but it wasn’t enough. You were missing in everything I did. You still are. Kihyun, I –”

“Shut the hell up, Changkyun.”

The words cut into his tirade and Changkyun’s falls silent just as the cat jumps off the counter to come rub at his legs. For a few seconds, time seems to slow down as they both stare at the animal, but soon enough, Kihyun looks up at Changkyun and he can see the anger burning behind his eyes.

“So you left for what? Nothing? Get the fuck out, Changkyun. I asked you to leave me alone.”

Changkyun feels himself nod and he turns back, his body acting without the license of his mind. Everything in him screams to stay, to make this better, somehow, but maybe there is nothing left to fix between them, just like there wasn’t enough to bridge their differences. There was something final in Kihyun’s tone and the barbed wire around his heart sinks deeper still.

 

**8.**

Changkyun is extremely drunk, that is pretty much the only thing he is sure of. He’s laying on the floor, too, and it’s not his apartment nor a bar. There’s a familiar voice hovering somewhere around his left ear and when he turns his head enough, he recognizes Minhyuk’s blond hair, and Minhyuk’s pretty face, and yeah, it’s Minhyuk lying next to him.

“Why are we… Why are we on the floor?”

“You wanted to lie down and I lied down with you so you could keep hear me talking.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Cats and dogs.”

“Okay.”

Changkyun nods. This seems like a perfectly adequate topic to talk about while lying on a surprisingly comfortable wooden floor. Maybe it is comfortable because he can’t feel his body anymore. Everything is extremely fuzzy and he’s not sure where his body is ending and where Minhyuk’s is beginning. It’s okay, though, really. There’s a nagging feeling that he’s missing something important, but he doesn’t care. Minhyuk is still talking so Changkyun dutifully turns his head towards him again, watches his lips move, but making sense of his words takes to much focus so he gives up halfway through.

There’s a dull ache in his chest that he tries to ignore but suddenly it’s all that he feels. Minhyuk falls silent next to him and he thinks maybe he should say something to get him talking again, because his voice is nice and comforting. When he opens his mouth he realizes he cannot speak, though, because he is too busy crying. There’s a warm body fitting himself against his, telling him things in a low voice, but it’s not the right body and it’s not the right voice and Changkyun just cries some more.

 

**9.**

Changkyun wonders if it is possible to be hangover for more than a day because it certainly feels like it is. There’s a persistent knock at his door though, so he lets himself roll off his couch, crawling on all fours before finally standing up halfway through. Somehow, it’s Kihyun standing on the other side, and the most reasonable course of action seems to be slamming the door in his face. Because, what?

He opens it again a few seconds later, sheepish, trying to make sense of the physicality of Kihyun being there, at his door, after he had barely resolved it was maybe time to forget about him, that everything had been destroyed beyond repair.

“Sorry, I panicked. What are you doing here, hyung?”

Destroyed, by Kihyun’s roughness and his own insecurities, by their inability to understand each other and their inability to just, to just try, really.

“Can I come in?”

He hesitates, because this cannot end well, can it? But there’s something like hope flickering in Kihyun’s face, and he looks soft, and Changkyun really wants to touch him, because this is the right body, the right voice, the right everything. So he lets him in, watches him settle on his couch, watches him look up expectantly in his direction, and he’s hovering, he knows he is, but this is just strange. He finally closes his door and sits on his armchair, the farthest one from Kihyun. There’s a silent beat before Kihyun speaks, a bit hesitant, maybe, but there’s a strange resolution in his face that eases some of Changkyun’s worries. At least one of them seems to know what he’s doing.

“How was the US?”

He frowns, because, what?

“Do you really wanna know, or are you just being polite?”

“I do really wanna know.”

And he does, Changkyun realizes. He’s here to listen and to try and to understand, maybe, and something breaks in Changkyun’s chest. Everything pours out, finally, and it’s not stupid black ink on rumpled paper in a bleary kitchen. It’s not frustrated words and muted anguish, either. He tells him, just like it is.

_About Boston, about the job, about meeting old friends. About missing home, and missing him. About being happy and sad at the same time, about finding himself through losing everything else. About being stronger, now, about finally knowing what he wants. About always having the worst timing, about how they met too early, and leaving was the best and the worst thing he could have done._

_And Kihyun listens, and he nods, and he understands. He agrees, too. Too early, too rushed, too unprepared. But worth it to try again, maybe, after all. Worth it to see if they still fit together like they used to. Worth it to forget the hurt, the anger, the loneliness, to try and make something better out of the ruins left behind._

Changkyun can finally thread his fingers in tangled strands of hair that are getting too long. He can touch and smell and taste and for once, it feels right. There’s black hair spilling ink against white sheets, a narrow chest raising and falling softly, and this time the small hand is clutching at him, at his wrists and his fingers and his tired hoodies and it’s not easy but it’s not hard, either.

He lets his bag fall to the floor, and he doesn’t pick it up again.


End file.
